Gravity
by madchilla
Summary: He kept me to the ground, and now that he's gone, I'm going up higher and higher.
1. Chapter 1

_March, 2013_

* * *

It's like any other ordinary day at my apartment. It's a disaster, which I would normally kick myself in the ass for, but I'm too fucking out of it to even care. Eren is lying on the foot of our bed on his back with an arm thrown over his face. He's fucking out of it as well.

Plastic bags and needles, new and used, scatter across every surface in the bedroom. I'm leaning up against the headboard, just sitting here. I've been watching the television for the last hour even though it isn't turned on. I don't think it ever has. I'm almost positive I only bought it for the sake of owning a television, owning something normal.

Something feels off, though. It's like any other ordinary day at my apartment, but something is...different. The blinds are shut, as usual. The lights are flipped off, as usual. Eren is lying in my bed, completely out of his mind, as usual. I have a raging boner in my pants, as usual—no, never mind. That is definitely not normal.

"Eren," I mumble and he doesn't move, only groaning slightly in response. "Eren," I say again, but louder and crawl over to him.

He peeks open an eye, an eye so dull in comparison to when I first met him. "Hm?" He grumbles.

I push his arm to the side and sit on his chest, my legs on either side of his body. I pull my boxers down and push my erection into his face. "Suck my dick," I order. Under any other circumstance, we probably would have celebrated the fact that I actually managed to get it up for the first time in a long time, but Eren took too much to even care.

He doesn't make an effort to move, merely parting his lips. That's all I need to go for it. It is, by far, the worst blow job I've ever had, especially from Eren, but it's been so long that I've had a boner to actually stimulate that I don't really give a shit of how bad it is. He lets me fuck his mouth like the good boy he is, even though he's simply lying there. He doesn't suck or move his tongue. He gags every once in a while, but that's about it.

It wasn't enough to satisfy me.

I pull out of his mouth and he smiles, thinking it was the best damn BJ he'd ever given. Poor thing. He doesn't have a clue. "Flip over." When he shows no intent of moving, I do it for him so he's lying on his stomach with his ass in the air. I wrap my arms around his waist and undo the zipper and button on his jeans before tugging them down along with his briefs. I quickly suck on two of my fingers and bring them to his entrance. I don't have to, though. He's way too high to even know where he is, let alone feel a little bit of pain, but I don't want him to have to feel it in the morning. He'll already not feel is best with the amount he took today and I definitely don't want to add ass pain to that.

Eren gasps when I shove my fingers into him and ruts back against them. It seems I'm not the only one feeling a little weird today. As quickly as I put them there, I pull my fingers out and align my cock with his hole. My groan is overpowered by his cry. I know the sounds he makes and that was definitely not one of pain.

He buries his face into the comforter to muffle his sounds. I watch his fingers claw into the fabric. I can only imagine how he's feeling with the high mixed with the sex because I'm feeling the same damn thing. God, he's so tight—so perfect.

It's been ages since we last fucked. We've been to fucked up to do anything. We would start, and it would be fantastic, but then one of us would pass out before we could finish. Truly frustrating.

My hands slide up his shirt, rubbing along his sides. I drape my body of his and kiss his sweaty neck. I should be disgusted at the condition of his greasy hair, considering that he hasn't showered in days, but I'm feeling too good to care. Eren is so fucking out of it, he's actually _moaning. _I may be just as equally as high, but I'm well aware of how lousy of a fuck this is. My thrusts are uneven and I'm, no doubt, not doing anything for Eren, not on purpose, though. If we weren't so high, I would be taking him to the highest of pleasures, but it seems he's already reached that point tonight.

I already feel good, but I want to fucking cum already. I haven't been keeping track of time since Eren has a strange phobia of clocks, but I'm pretty sure this has been going on for at least a half hour. Maybe more. I don't really know. My perception of time may be a little off.

Eren is flushed and his hips are lowering. "Fuck," I mutter, pulling out of him. He falls to his side, panting heavily. His dick is soft, not that I blame him. It was horrible. I leave him on the bed as I trek to the bathroom. I avoid the mirror, knowing exactly how angry I'll become if I see how much more my cheeks have hollowed. I simply wash my face and dry it with one of the towels on the counter. I don't bother jacking off, because it will take too long and I just want to sleep.

Fuck my dick. It's completely useless. It's never there for me when I need it most, and when it decides to finally pop up, I can't even use it. It's just fucking lucky that I've never pulled a Nikki Sixx and destroyed its veins with my needles.

Eren has moved since I left. He sits on the bed with his legs crossed and a piece of cloth tied tightly around his arm. A spoon and pieces of cotton are spread around him. "Eren," I say. "You've had enough today."

"Just a little more," he says slowly.

Even if I'd attempted to stop him, he already pushed down on the plunger. I kneel beside him and untie the fabric from his arm. I should worry about the needle stabbing me in the leg, knowing it isn't mine, but I'm don't. It's Eren's and I'm positive that we're both clean.

I grab the needle Eren lost his grip on and threw it onto the floor to join the others. "Come on," I whisper, maneuvering him so he was lying under the covers, head on the pillow. He needs to sleep. I slip into bed, next to him.

He buries his face into my chest before leaning up to kiss me. "I love you," he slurs. I'm disappointed that his pupils are so blown out, blocking the beautiful color of his eyes. I once fell in love with those green eyes.

I kiss his forehead and pull him close to me. "I love you, too."

It isn't a lie. I fell in love with him the first moment we spent time together and I love him so much that I wasn't bothered that he was following me in my deadly footsteps. I love him enough to ruin myself beside him. However, I know he doesn't love me the way I love him. I've learned to accept it. As long as I can have him by my side, through thick and thin, I'm content.

His breathing evens out as he falls asleep. My eyes are drooping and I realize I'm right behind him, losing myself to slumber.

* * *

I don't know what time it is when I wake up. The curtains block out any traces of the sun and my room is void of clocks. My stomach growls, reminding me that it's been at least two days since I last ate. Eren must have been in the same condition. He's on his side, his back facing away from me. I reach over and shake his shoulder. "Eren, wake up. Let's go get breakfast." When he doesn't respond, I shake a bit harder, knowing just how dead to the world he is when he sleeps. "Eren, come on."

I roll him over onto his back to get better access to wake him, but the sight of his face has my heart dropping. His skin is pale and his lips blue. "No," I gasp. I crawl over him and check his neck for a pulse. His flesh is horrifyingly cold beneath my fingers. "No!" I can't find the little flutter. Tears well up before I can even try to stop them. My head drops and I cry into lifeless neck. "Eren, no..."

I simply lie there, trying to transfer my warmth to him because his body is _so cold_. I eventually pull away from him, sniffing as I do. My head is pounding and I can barely think. All I know is that I have to do something. It's disrespectful to leave him like this. I search my room for the pants I discarded days before. When I find them, I reach in one of the pockets and retrieve my forgotten cellphone. The time read five thirty-four in the morning. I shakily dialed the three digit number.

"_9-1-1 What's your emergency?"_

"My," Friend. Lover. Soul mate. "Roommate overdosed. He's dead." I give the woman the address and hang up with no other explanation. I have to clean up.

* * *

I watch from the doorway as paramedics enter and exit our—my apartment. The place is spotless. They gave me a whole twenty-seven minutes to flush our—my stash and get rid of all of the needles and dirty spoons.

They don't ask me questions, besides what it was that Eren took. I answer honestly, as it's pretty damn easy to tell. There's no doubt that they take me as a junky, too and they aren't wrong. My sunken eyes, hollow cheeks and the already small clothes hanging loosely off of my body are enough to tell that the darkness has enveloped me as well.

They say nothing, not that I can blame them. My pulse, the blood pumping through my veins, and my beating heart are all enough to prove that I mean nothing to them. To them, I'm a worthless piece of shit that they can't deal with until I kick the bucket.

Judging by my current condition, that won't be taking too long.

My eyes cloud when they wheel my love out of the apartment on a stretcher, a white sheet draped over his lifeless body.

As soon as they're gone, I slip into my shoes and throw on a light jacket, irritated that I'd dumped the stash. The people in my apartment were not cops. Drugs weren't their priority. The dead body on the bed was their concern.

I could have just hidden it. Now I have to go get new shit.

Most of the people on this street aren't early birds. They just haven't gone home from the night before, yet. Some anxiously look both ways across the street, most likely scouting for any flashing lights. Some are stumbling down the sidewalk, tripping over their own feet or the feet of another passed out junkie.

These streets are dirty and dark. They come here expecting fun, glamor and even fame, but those are the last things that come with walking down this road. Eren should have known that. He should have known that this place isn't the sanctuary that he sought. This place is hell, and once the devil has his grasp on your ankles, he pulls you deeper until there's no hope of getting back up. If by chance, you manage to escape, his helpers will attach to your back and follow you, constantly reminding you of where you were and what you've done. Once you think you've healed, you lower your guard and the demons pull you down even further.

There's no escape.

Eren had danced with his demons far before coming here, but this is the place that grasped him—carried him to a world much more obscure than his typical life of suburbia and he allowed himself to be engulfed by it.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the angst guys. I had to write something to take my anger out on (a very small part of) the ereri fandom. The story will be 15 chapters long, but the chapters will be relatively short in comparison to my other stories. Please don't let this first chapter turn you away, there will be many flashbacks of Eren in future chapters. _


	2. Chapter 2

_March, 2013_

* * *

I wake up, alone and cold. I'm not sure how I got home or how I managed to get myself to sleep in this bed. Our bed. I should be disgusted—revolted that I had the decency to rest in the place where he was taken from me, but I'm honestly too tired to care at this moment.

I remember leaving after the paramedics took Eren's body. I remember guiding myself through the neighborhood until I reached downtown, well the lower part of downtown. The Underground. I arrived at my favorite bar, the one owned by one of my best acquaintances. Hanji isn't my friend, but she's a damn good dealer. She never deceives with her stash and the shit is always strong, for a decent price, might I add. That's why she's my favorite.

Apparently, word of Eren's death had spread quickly. I heard others whispering as I walked in and some had the nerve to ask me what happened directly. I was surprised that the place still had people there, but this was one of the few places in the city that was open all night. I'm not sure if that's illegal or not, but I really don't care. I recall Hanji pulling me away, leading me into the back room where we always go and got me what I needed. "Just take it, Levi," she said, disregarding my money and handed me the bag. "I understand what you're going through." Indeed she does. She just lost Mike not too long ago. "I know how much Eren meant to you and I'm so sorry for your loss. Please be careful Levi."

"I'm always careful," I responded sharply. That's a lie. If I'd been careful, I wouldn't be alone right now. I wouldn't have flushed my stash and go to this dump to replace it. I wouldn't have to feel this sick tightening in my stomach. I wouldn't have to feel so fucking empty.

"Levi," she said right as I was almost passed the door. I didn't turn to face her, but I halted. "Remember, you are not invincible."

No shit, glasses. "I've never claimed to be."

"I know that. Just keep it in mind. You know we're all here for you." 'We' being the staff and usual patrons that have been coming to this same bar for as long as I'd ever lived here.

Before I left the back room, I mumbled, "I don't need you or your shitty bar." That isn't true. This place has been home to me for the last three years. The people here are my family. Hanji, of course, understood my anger.

Hanji nodded. "See you soon, Levi."

I remember leaving the back and finding my way to a different, more private room. I hate when people watch me shoot up. It's not that I'm ashamed or embarrassed, but I always feel like I'm being judged. Not that anyone's judgment means anything to me. I just don't like it.

I locked the door behind me when I found an unoccupied room. It wasn't hard since the place was nearly empty. The bag Hanji gave me was emptied out onto one of the many tables placed in the room. I prepared everything, expertly quick. I just wanted to get rid of that empty feeling plaguing me. The memories, the beautiful and the ugly were slowly coming back to me and I desperately wanted to lock them away. I didn't want them. I had to get rid of them, I thought as injected my drug of choice.

I lay on my back. The wooden floor was freezing against my body and I welcomed the cold. I would lay there for only a few minutes before I went home. Just like usual.

I groaned when someone knocked on the door. Cold air blew in through the entry as the person entered without my consent. "Levi," a small voice said softly. "Are you okay?" Ah yes, that's right. Petra, my favorite waitress, the only woman I would marry if I didn't like dick, slowly walked into the room, approaching me.

Everything was moving so slowly, it felt like a half hour had passed as she crossed the eight feet to me. She knelt beside me and picked up the needle that I'd dropped earlier and set it up on the table. "Are you alright, Levi?" She gently asked, running her fingers through my dirty hair. My eyes were so focused on a stain on the ceiling that I almost missed the disgusted look she gave at the condition of my hair.

"Mm," I mumbled, not really knowing what she'd even asked me.

"I know this probably isn't what you want to hear right now, but I'm so sorry." Sorry. Everyone is sorry. "He was such a good kid and it just isn't fair." Was.

My head spun as I sat up. "I need a drink." My voice wasn't recognizable even to my own ears. I've never been the one to be very expressive, but even that tone was abnormal for me.

Petra scooted back to give me space, but apprehensively shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Levi. You're not in the condition to be drink—"

"Get me a drink, Petra, or I'll get one myself." I interrupted.

"Alright," she squeaked. "Do you want to stay in here, or go out to the bar?"

I thought for a moment, ultimately decided, "The bar. Help me up." She slung my arm over her shoulder and her hand grabbed my waist as she hoisted me up, guiding me out of the room, to the main bar.

I swayed on the stool slightly before regaining my balance. Petra appeared from the other side of the counter. "Auruo left a few hours ago, so be easy on me, please," she said. "What do you want?"

"Jagerbomb."

"Levi." I could almost hear the scolding tone in her voice.

I snap. "Just make the goddamn drink." I should have treated her better. Petra has always been there for me, even if we don't consider ourselves to be very close. I know she was only trying to help me. She pursed her lips and silently made me my drink. "Thank you," I said in a calmer voice when she placed the two glasses in front of me. She kept her eyes on me as I dropped the smaller glass into the other and chugged the bitter alcohol.

She immediately grabbed the glasses when I set them down onto the bar. "Whoa, take it easy, Levi."

I wiped the liquid that dribbled from the corner of my lips with the back of my hand. Pushing my glass, requesting a refill, I slurred, "I loved him, you know. I never loved anyone before him, Petra. Not even Erwin."

"I know you did, Levi." She didn't give me a refill, and I really didn't care. Instead, she gingerly placed her hand on top of mine, rubbing her thumb across my skin in a way I'm sure was supposed to be soothing. All it did was remind me how cold Eren was beneath my touch that morning. I jerked my hand away, but she didn't comment. "Maybe now isn't the best time to say it, but you don't have to stop loving him because he's gone, you know. Just because he isn't here doesn't mean you have to forget your memories with him."

The scoff escaped me before I could even attempt to stop it. "Ha! What memories? Fucking and shooting up?" Those aren't exactly what I want to remember him for.

If I could do anything to get rid of Petra's look of pity at that moment, I would. "Surely there's other things," she insisted, but she was oh so wrong.

For the last year, Eren and I had started off terrorizing the Underground, hopping from club to club, scoring whatever we could with whatever money we came across. We'd buy the cheap stuff and sell it for double the price, saying it was better than it was. Who wouldn't trust us? We were incredibly well known around that area. We gave no reason for anyone to doubt us.

Though, I remember that adorable thing he would do when he painted or drew. I would be sitting at my computer in the living room, watching him stand in front of the easel while I waited for words to come to me. His forehead would crease in concentration and his tongue would slip out to wet his lips, but then he would forget his action, leaving his tongue to peek out. His eyes would be so damn bright compared to when he was fucked up.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Petra."

"Maybe I don't, but you absolutely cannot punish yourself for this, Levi. You are not at fault."

I let out an actual laugh. "Not my fault? Of course it's my fault! If I had never met the kid, he probably would have gotten sick of this place, or at least run out of money within a month and go home, but no. I couldn't let him go. I had to keep him here with me and practically lead him down to his fucking grave, so don't give me that shit, Petra."

She knew I was right, but she was too goddamn caring to confirm it. "You still shouldn't blame yourself. Believing things like that isn't going to help you."

"Fucking right, it won't. The only thing I want that will help me right now is a goddam drink and you won't fucking give it to me!" I may have screamed the last part. I also may have picked up the empty glass and slammed it on the table, scattering its shards.

My vision went red. Someone pulled me from the chair and dragged me out of the bar. Perhaps it was Moblit. He was never one to put up with my bullshit. Good for him.

That's where my memories cut off. I can't remember how I got home or when I changed or when I fell asleep in this godforsaken bed.

The throbbing in my head and the twisting of my gut has me dashing to the bathroom and emptying what little content that was in my stomach. I still haven't eaten. The mess in the toilet is probably from the liquor and stomach acid. I flush the toilet, not bothering to brush my teeth, and head for the living room, plopping into the large recliner. I'm mad. Fucking furious. All last night I wallowed in a bar and drowned in my sorrows all because I blamed myself for Eren's downfall.

Petra was right. I'm not at fault for Eren's death, but neither is he. He was at the mercy of this fucking place. This fucking society, that once you're down, you can't get back up. Sure, you can fight and try to crawl out of the hole they fucking dug for you, but you will always fall, and they will laugh. They will laugh at your stupidity, because, of course, you will never escape. You simply can't. This is a place that once you have fallen, no one will help you get up. They will beat you with sticks until you forfeit any fighting chance you came with.

No one will show pity, only their wrath. They want you to fail so they can say, "I told you so." They want us to fail because they're scared of what we can do. If we can fuck up and shit on our lives, surely we can do the same to theirs.

It isn't fair and that's just the way that they like it. They believe they're above us. They think that they can show us who's in charge by doing nothing for those of us who have fallen. They taunt us with ads. "Another Undergrounder Dead." The headlines make me laugh. _Another_ is dead. Can't they see that we're _all _already dead?

They treat us like rats and, in return, we behave like rats. We give them exactly what they want and litter their streets with out trash. What do we owe them? Nothing. They have given us nothing and we have to repay them with, anyway.

I'm not going to apologize for Eren's death. It's not my fault; it's the fucking system's. I'm not going to blame myself, but I will prove them wrong. I will show that I can overcome this. I will show that I can stand again.


End file.
